


How Big, How Blue

by EbaTan



Series: The Ballad Of You [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Closet Sex, Crimes & Criminals, Drunk Sex, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gore, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Murder Mystery, Mystery, One Night Stands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Police Procedural, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2019-06-22 02:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbaTan/pseuds/EbaTan
Summary: When your family asked what you did for a living, you were never sure how to respond since the task unit you worked for didn't technically exist. You carried a gun and a badge, but you were no cop and saying you were a "Special Agent" never seemed to quite satisfy their curiosity. When a string of seemingly unrelated murders made their way to the top of your caseload, your answer for your family would become even more convoluted as you found yourself mixed up in a nefarious plot with unseen forces that all revolved around the same cocky CEO. A man with whom you were already embarrassingly well acquainted with. Amidst all the chaos, one thing was for certain: you really needed a drink.





	1. Build Our Altar Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets start this story off with a *bang*.

Of all the drinks in the world, you really hated whiskey.

The clamor of the party drowned out the noise of the ice clinking in your glass as you swirled it around anxiously. You sat alone at the bar away from most prying eyes. The simple black cocktail dress that clung to your curves made you feel hilariously underdressed in comparison to the rest of the guests. Hell, you were barely wearing makeup. Not that you cared all that much.

The venue hall was large, but the low ceiling and dim lighting made it feel much more intimate. The room was adorned in shades of black, deep purple, and burgundy. Gothic in nature, it was perfect for this little shindig. Classical music and the occasional clinking of glasses softly echoed in the hall as clusters of people costumed in ostentatious black tie garments mingled while chatting idly over business, gossiping about their fellow peers, and kissing ass with all the social elegancy of a bunch of swamp leeches.

The grandstanding made you sick. It was exactly what you expected from a charity event thrown by your family.

 _All that’s missing are the masquerade masks and orgies. Then it’d be a real party._ You thought to yourself as you laughed under your breath, taking a sip of your drink and wincing a tad.

“I really wish you would refrain from getting drunk during _every_ event our dear parents host.”

You were so lost in thought that you nearly missed the disappointed tone in your older brother’s voice lurking behind you.

Spinning around on your stool to face him, you placed your elbows against the bar and crossed one leg over the other, which was difficult to do in such a tight dress. Your face remained straight. “Believe me, Sosuke, when I’m drunk, you’ll know.”

Your smartass reply elicited only the sound of sucked teeth in response.

Sosuke was the eldest of your _“dear”_ parents’ offspring. They made no efforts to hide the fact that he was the favorite. The money donated to the orphanage (the name of which you hadn’t bothered to learn) was done so entirely in his name through them. “A gift”, they called it.

It wasn’t even the jerk’s birthday.

The two of you shared similar physical features, but that was all you shared. He stood a good foot taller than you and showed signs of his age all over his skin. Every inch of his appearance was pristine and perfectly pampered: from the impeccably tailored suit to the tight slicked back hair. You didn’t miss spotting the miniature pin of the family crest that was boastfully affixed onto his lapel, most likely at the behest of Father. You decided to ignore the fact that they had left you out of the group family dress code for the evening. 

 _No,_ you reminded yourself. _It’s not a family crest._

 _It's a brand._  

You threw your head back and chugged the rest your drink.

The conversation ended as quickly as it had begun as The Perfect Prick remained for a good moment, glaring at you with a furrowed brow in a way that only an older brother could, then turned on his heel and walked away without a word. He blended into the huddled masses of the disgustingly rich and elite that he felt so comfortable in, much like a chameleon. You searched for him for a moment, but resigned to the idea that you probably weren’t going to see him again before you made your glamorous French exit that you were oh so very famous for.

A sigh escaped your lips. You weren’t proud of the distance that grew between you two over the years, but that was a guilt trip for another day. For tonight, you were eager to find the comfort that came with drowning your sorrows of all sorts at the bottom of your glass.

Honestly, you had no damn clue why you were even still invited to these things. You thought maybe your parents just wanted to keep up appearances, but it wasn’t as if they invited you to join them in any of the group photos that would end up in tabloids. It had been some time since your parents cut you off financially, not that you ever took their money to begin with, and they had long since given up on trying to convince you to join the business like your sibling. You had your own path to follow and were comfortable in your role as the coveted black sheep. As long as they left you alone, you convinced yourself you were better off.

 There was no pride in the work that they did.

Spinning back around in your stool, you searched the bar for whisky alternatives only to be disappointed. Wine wasn’t nearly strong enough while vodka was _too_ strong for tonight. You flagged down the bartender, who, as it turned out, happened to be one of the same bartenders to work the last event: Father’s golf course brunch.

The fact that you saw more of the bartenders, enough to memorize their likenesses, than your own family did not go unnoticed by you.

“Excuse me? Can I get one more, please?” You pushed the empty glass towards him as he walked over.

 

* * *

 

You reveled in the familiar solitude as you sat at the bar for a few more rounds. Now blissfully buzzed, the image of the embittered Sosuke’s cold eye staring daggers into soul became muted. Apathy took its place, as it always had done. This told you that maybe it was time to call it quits.

You waved down the bartender one last time, letting him know that you were done for the night and thanking him for his hard work. You got up to leave, only then realizing you were dizzy.

“Please forgive me for having to ask, but how would you like to pay for your drinks tonight?”

The bartender stopped you dead in your tracks. You were a bit thrown off by that question. Not offended in any way, just surprised. Outcast as you might have been, at least most of the regular attendees had a vague idea of who you were. Despite the fact that you would rather they not know of you at all.

You stated the family name. “I’m on their tab.”

“Ah, yes… well…,” the man became noticeably shyer, “I do apologize, but I’m afraid your mother has instructed us to not allow you to add to their tab.”

_Busted._

In defeat, you sat back down. Really, you shouldn’t have been all that surprised. The brunch at Father’s golf course last month had ended with you getting shit-faced on mimosas, which led to you shamelessly flirting with one of the female caddies for the better part of the morning and then accidentally falling into one of the small ponds. All before noon! Unbecoming behavior, surely, but you just lived for the moments where you could visibly see Mother’s veins bubbling to the surface as rage coursed through them.

“Of course she did… it’s no matter, I’ll just—”

You reached down to your side habitually, only to find your hip barren. It suddenly dawned on you: where was your wallet? Actually, where was your entire _purse_?!

You searched your entire person. The bartender shifted awkwardly on his feet and averted his gaze at the sight of you basically fondling yourself. The only thing you could find was your smartphone wedged in your black lace garter on your right thigh, as it was entirely too big to fit in your brazier and the garter itself served as pointless decoration anyways, being that your weren’t wearing any stockings for it to hold up (your dog chewed a hole in your last pair).

Right as you were about to ask him if he took smartphone pay, a lean arm reached over your shoulder, extending what looked like a solid gold card to the bartender.

“Add it to mine.”

You shot up to meet the man behind you while knocking the hand away before the barkeep could grab the card. You stumbled a bit but managed to catch yourself on the bar. All your life, you made an effort not to owe anyone for anything. No level of inebriation could change that.

If the term “tall, dark, and handsome” had a face, it would be his. Standing a little over six feet tall, chocolate brown hair that seemed to almost cover this scenic blue eyes, and clad in an white suit jacket with a jet black dress shirt and tie, the man sure knew how to dress. His outfit looked as if it cost more than two months worth of your rent. The rich white jacket amongst the sea of black in the crowd was definitely a display of his ego, as no one else at the party seemed to have the balls to stand out the way he did. You couldn’t decide if you hated this about him or admired it.

He looked so damned familiar, but you didn’t know why. You weren't the type to forget a face, especially a face like his.

You gave yourself a moment to let the spinning subside before speaking. When you did, you spoke plainly.

“No, thank you.”

“No?” He seemed confused, as if that was not a word he was accustomed to hearing. “You’re not exactly in a position to refuse. I saw you fumbling like a fool from the other side of the room.”

“I don’t need your pity cash. I have money, I just can’t find my pu— ”

The stranger with the steely blues cut you off, pushing you aside and forcing the bartender to take his stupid gold card.

“Close her tab.” He turned his head to you. “You’re drunk and are now making a scene.”

_What’s it to you?! You don’t even know me!_

He was beginning to sound like your brother.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“I am not drunk.” you spoke calmly and deliberately slow as to not to slur your words and give away just how much you had actually consumed. You were tired of hearing that tonight. Besides, it was obvious to you that the stranger had a few drinks in him too, no matter how well he thought he was faking it. Your profession required you to be perceptive, so he was unable to hide from you the way he would occasionally close his eye and sway for a second, as if regaining his balance. What a hypocrite.

“Believe me, I could drink even a man such as yourself under the table.”

His eyes widened for a brief moment and a small smirk crawled across his face as he crossed his arm, slightly closing the distance between you two. You kept your face clear of all emotions as you craned your neck upwards to meet his gaze; your expression as vacant as always. Even though you stood taller than the average Japanese female at a whopping 172 cm, you found that you felt small in comparison to him. You weren’t a fan of the feeling.

“Is that so?”

You had not meant for your words to come off as a challenge, just merely stating the facts.

The way his eyes began to search yours made your ears turn pink. It was time to get the hell out of there. Not wanting to dignify him with a retort or challenge him further, you moved passed him to start your search for that damn purse of yours. You were going to pull out whatever cash you had on you and shove it up his ass.

The stranger called out to you, “where do you think you are going?” 

 _To find something to shove up your ass._  

“I intend to find my purse and pay your back,” you replied, turning to him once more.

Without you noticing, the stranger had sat down and ordered two more drinks. Both whiskey, both served neat.

“Don’t bother. The money is going to charity anyways.” He’s face remained cold when he pushed one of them across the counter and motioned for you to sit on the stool in front of it. “Now, drink. We’ll put your tolerance to the test. 

You hesitated. You didn’t care for bets or competitions, which played a big part in why you dueled so rarely these days. While you nationally ranked in the female division growing up, you just didn’t have the drive or passion that others had. So, ultimately, you quit.

However, drinking? _That_ you had plenty of passion for.

“...Fine,” you decide to indulge the man and sat on the stool besides him, “but you have to match me with every drink. First to tap out pays.”

He grinned at you as you raised your drink to clink with his, smug like the cat who caught the canary. He had every intention on winning, that much you could tell. 

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

You weren’t sure how you both ended up in the coat closet.

One moment, the two of you are chugging back drinks and engaging in weirdly calm trash talk. The next, the stranger is locking the old door behind him, grabbing your face to kiss you sloppily while walking you backwards, and slamming you up against the wall.

He tasted _so much_ like whiskey.

The stranger slightly lifted his knee underneath you to support your weight while using the back wall you were pinned against in order to support his own. Scoping his hand under one of your knees and bringing it up to his side, you got the message and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck after pushing all the furs and heavy cottons out of the way. You hooked your legs around his waist, doing your best not to fall.  
  
Visibility was limited as the old fixture in the ceiling offered very little lighting, but you didn’t have to see his face to feel the hunger that radiated from him while he took a minute just to stare at you. If you could match him in drinks, you could match him in lust too.

You forced his head down to meet yours, crashing against his lips. You felt him hum in approval as you strengthened your grip on a fistful of hair on the back of his head. His lips eventually left yours and found their way to your neck, meanwhile lowering the top of your dress down slightly by it’s deep sweetheart neckline to grope at your bare chest. You were silently thankful that his dress required you to go braless, as you weren’t confident either of you had the proper motor skills to unhook a clasp at that moment. 

His suit jacket and tie eventually found their way to the floor as you ripped his shirt open, careful to avoid popping off any of the buttons.

You bit your lip in thought as you dragged your fingers down his chest, outlining his abs, and then ghosted his waistline.

_Damn, this guy is fit._

He whispered huskily into your ear, talking low and slow to avoid garbling his words. “You’re being impatient.” He pinched your breast harder.

“Tch,” you growled and tugged at his belt, “foreplay is for people to have the luxury of time. The night is ending, and the socialites will be wanting their overpriced furs back.”

“We locked the door, so they’ll just have to mind their manners and wait. Are you quick to be rid of me?” He asked, peppering you with kisses along your bare shoulder. “Are you not enjoying yourself?”

You were about to respond as the sound of your phone hitting the ground cut you off. The stranger had pushed up your dress and made quick work of removing the garter that secured your phone. You looked down at the lit up screen to see one text notification from your mother, asking where you were.

“Actually,” you played with his hair, “take as long as you need.”

He let out a small chuckle, smiling against your skin.

The stranger moved to bite at your bottom lip while kissing you as he pressed his fingers against your womanhood and went to work. You could sense the faintest hint of hesitancy and nervousness and he traced the outline of your labia lazily through the bottom of your panties. You bit back at him playfully, attempting to loosen him up and distract from whatever thoughts stole his focus from you. You were cut short as you surprisingly let out an audible gasp and flung your head back the moment he pushed the cloth to the side, instead of just taking them off, and slipped a single finger into you. Your eyes searched the room in a daze as he made soft “come-hither” motions. He started mumbling something about how wet you were, but your own thoughts were too disoriented to register it.

You did, however, spot your cheap purse sitting idly on a high shelf above you. Which reminded you: you still had to pay this cocky bastard back. While there was no declared winner of the impromptu drinking contest, you still didn’t want to owe him anything or give off the impression that your current activity was in _any_ way your form of payment.

No, you were in that closet with him because you wanted to be there.

You undid his belt and threw it on the floor besides his suit jacket. It hit the floor with a _clang_ loud enough to startle the stranger, as evident by the way his finger hooked inside you roughly in response. You lower half quivered a bit.

Maybe you were impatient.

Your hands found their way inside his now unzipped trousers and wrapped your fingers around his hardened length. It was entirely too dark to see how big he actually was as you exposed him to the room, but from feel alone, you worried you might not be prepared enough to take him on. You thumbed over his tip, using the slight amount of pre-cum as lubricant while you stroked him.

“S-shit...”

The stranger let out a throaty grunt and his breaths became ragged, staggering a bit as he held you. You could tell he was coming undone as he removed himself from you in order to prop himself up on the wall behind your head. Giving him one final pump, you brought his hips closer to yours and rubbed your lips against the head of his member, reading yourself to be entered.

He stopped you in order to gain your verbal consent before anything went further. Understandably so, as you were both incredibly drunk, but you were so overly stimulated and grew tired of waiting. Instead of saying anything, you just nodded, lifted yourself up slightly, brought him even closer, and lowered yourself onto him.

You took your time, sucking your teeth as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate him. As his cock moved passed your most sensitive spots, you felt as if the wall behind you began to melt.

So much of this night was a haze that you were slightly disappointed knowing you probably weren’t going to remember much in the morning. The feeling was however fleeting, as the stranger’s abbreviated trusts interrupted your thoughts. His pace started off slow but quickened gradually the more he realized he could go even deeper. It wasn’t by any means rhythmic, but you didn’t mind. Because you were both in standing position, the angle allowed him to hit exactly where it needed to. Your legs tightened around his waist as a heat began to build inside you.

“Y-yes… I’m so…,” you couldn’t help but blabber incoherently. 

You were getting so close, and the slight buckling of his knees gave away that he was as well. Sweat dripped from his forehead on to yours as he caught you in what felt like the deepest kiss of your life. His tongue skirted your teeth as both of you seemed to fight for domination over one another. You decided to take advantage of the closed distance between you two, tightening your arms around his neck and plunging your lower half into him even harder, taking control and commanding a much more pleasurable pace. His hands clawed at your hips, piercing your skin as he assisted in gliding you.

Thank goodness you had strong arms and legs.

Before you knew it, your muscles began to constrict as you rode out the peak of your orgasm. It wasn’t one that made you see stars, but you still let out as small yelp in response. A spark shot through your spine as you held nothing back during your release. Normally you would try to prolong this part as long as possible, making sure to ride out every wave of pleasure, but you became limp as whiskey took the wheel tonight. It was definitely a terrible driver.

You couldn’t remember the last time a man made you climax from penetration alone. You were impressed, to say the least.

As your body gave in, you relinquished control back to the stranger, allowing his greed to consume you with each heave. He began to pant and moan into the crook of your neck. You inhaled deeply, absorbing the overwhelming fragrance of eucalyptus and mint that danced from his hair. He smelled _so good._ It was intoxicating. You absentmindedly clamped your inner muscles around his cock and tugged at the smaller hairs at the back of his head, not knowing it was enough to send him over the edge. He bit down _hard_.

At the last second, he yanked himself from out of you. His moan turned into a loud, exasperated growl as he spilled onto your abdomen, which was thankfully covered by the bunched up skirt of your dress.

The sounds he made caused your head to spin. You hadn’t realized just how loud you two were up until that moment as the heartbeat in your ears died down and the memory of the wet slapping of skin against skin made you suddenly self-conscious.

A moment passed as you both let your nerves settle and your ragged breaths even out before you lowered yourself back to the floor. You gave him one small, tender peck on the lips and removed his hands that were still digging into your skin from your hips. Your legs wobbled a bit as you fixed your dress and walked past him in search of your heels.

You were definitely going to be sore in the morning.

The man already had his dress shirt buttoned as you grabbed your purse, pulled out two wet wipes, and began to clean yourself up. He let out a hardy laugh.

“You can’t go out like that.”

“Hm? Why?” You offered him the other wipe and fixed the buttons he missed.

He barely managed to clean himself. He teetered a bit and struggled with his zipper, not even bothering with the tie as he simply tucked it into his pocket.

He pointed to your shoulders and then down to your dress. “Others will definitely take notice.”

“...Dammit,” your shoulders had one very noticeable bite mark, several small hickies forming, and the sight of visible semen marks on your crinkled skirt caused you to groan and roll your eyes as you realized you had given him your last wipe, “this is going to stain.”

You steadied yourself on his arms as you put on your heels one by one. He held your elbows in support.

 Getting dressed really required team effort tonight.

"Just get it dry cleaned. In the meantime…” The stranger draped his white suit jacket around your shoulders after taking out his wallet and phone, looked around the closet, grabbed a random fur coat, and began to pat down your dress.

“W-wait!” You wanted to stop him, but you couldn’t hold back your drunken laughter. The thought of some affluent prat going home in their million-dollar coat covered in the dried aftermath of a clumsy, last minute closet romp between you and your mystery lover, entirely unbeknownst to them, almost made you keel over. “You can’t do that!”

“Hmph, of course I can.” He huffed.

He discarded the coat on the ground and brought you back in for one last kiss. You took the opportunity to slip some cash in his back pocket while he wasn’t paying attention.

“I’m Seto Kaiba,” he let out a hiccup that smelled faintly of alcohol, “I can do anything.”

Damn, you were really beginning to like whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader’s Outfit: https://pin.it/jkpljqd6h2i2bu  
> Kaiba’s Outfit: https://pin.it/awv6q3g5e4godu (Just imagine it had a tie lol)
> 
> This is the first fic I've worked on in a long time! I while I have a lot of plans and the draft for chapter 2 is already in the works, I'm not sure how quickly I'll be pumping them out. Since this is something I'm primarily writing to entertain myself, I feel too embarrassed to have anyone who knows me personalty proofread it. Meaning that I spend at least a week rereading and rewriting before I even consider posting. If all goes well, I should be able to stick to publishing a chapter once every 2 or 3 weeks... But don't rely on that... you never know what might get in my way... (￣。￣;;)
> 
> I will provide more insight into how I'm approaching Reader's personality as the chapters advance. For now I will say that she is different than your typical Kaiba/Reader protagonist. While I love the "coffee shop girl" or "smart college girl" approach with all my heart, your Reader in this is no flower and definitely not someone you want to piss off. She's the one drinking the coffee, not making it... Heh...
> 
> While I tend to write my protags a Lawful Good types, this Reader will be Heroic Neutral and honestly might start off a little unlikable... but that will change over time! It will take a bit of learning on my part to get used to her personality, but I'm excited.
> 
> I will also be taking a different approach with Kaiba himself as well. While I think it's easy to paint him as the dominant one both in a romantic and sexual way based on his behavior, I think in reality he would find himself painfully (and awkwardly) submissive most of the time due to his upbringing. Relationships and sex probably aren't things he ever thought of seriously since work and Duel Monsters always came first, so any new experience for him would probably take a lot of getting used to. Definitely having a Reader that is more sexually confident will provide some interesting writing opportunities, to say the least.
> 
> SIDE NOTE: I never write smut. It's not something I've ever been good at and has always been difficult for me to even put to thought, let alone translate into words. However, I guess I'll just have to keep practicing since sex and her emotional detachment to it is a major part of Reader's character. So please bare with me!


	2. Recall and Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait... Here's a shorty for now.

The sensation of a wet slap against your cheek jerked you from your deep sleep. If you were dreaming, you did not remember it.  
  
“BAH!” You shouted, wiping the slobber off your face with your palm as you shot up. You spotted the culprit staring up at you from the side of the couch that you fell asleep on last night, his small brown eyes feigning innocence.  
  
A few years back, you were walking down a back alley in the city when you spotted a small, unruly looking puppy eating trash from a dumpster belonging to an American-themed restaurant. The poor thing was covered in dirty water and fleas. He reminded you more of Chewbacca then a dog. Your weakness for strays took over as you opted to take him home. Your parents would have a fit, but you had stopped listening to them long ago. The pup put up no fight as you picked him up and walked off. When asked by your brother what you had decided to name him, you could only come up with the name of the discarded food you saw him scarfing down:  
  
“Thanks for the wake-up call, Meatloaf.”  
  
As he grew into adulthood, Meatloaf went from being the size of a loaf of bread to the size of a baby bear. A quick google search told you that he was some sort of Tibetan Mastiff mix. He looked ferocious, but that was it. Even though he was still a young man, Meatloaf had an old soul. He didn’t care for fetch, loved to nap in sun, and made sure he ate at the same exact time everyday.  
  
It must have been that time. No wonder he was waking you up.  
  
You raised your arms up as high as they could reach and hummed when your back made that satisfying pop as you stretched. You were still in your dress from the night before and all your muscles ached. As you tried to piece together your memories of the previous night, you took a quick look around the room. Your eyes landed on the tv clock that read 6:49 AM, which meant that you had a whole eleven minutes left to sleep before you had to be up and getting ready for work. Meatloaf’s impeccable internal clock usually made sure you were up in time, but he never actually woke you up earlier than your alarm.  
  
Unless…  
  
You swung your legs over the side of the couch to the floor and picked up the barren dog bowl by your feet, right where you suspected it might be. Meatloaf perked his head up expectantly from where he was laying.  
  
“Damn, I really did forget to feed you when I got home. I’m sorry, big man…” You cursed at yourself under your breath. You felt like a terrible pet owner. He must have brought the bowl over to you.  
  
The cold kitchen tile floor chilled your feet as you walked to the pantry, Meatloaf following closely behind you, and grabbed a can of his favorite wet food. Usually you saved the wet food for when he did well during his service dog training classes, which really was every session, but today it would act as an apology meal.  
  
Your walk-in pantry was a joke. While it was full of food for the big man (three bags of dry food, nine cans of wet food, and four bags of assorted dog treats, to be exact), it hardly contained anything for you. There was five whole shelves and all you had stocked was a bag of stale jalapeño chips, a box of store brand honey oats cereal that you were pretty sure was empty, a case of chocolate chip cookies (chewy, just like you liked them), and several packets of ramen that were just kinda all over the damn place.  
  
The fridge was no exception. While the freezer was packed full of frozen meals, the main compartment contained only a small jug of milk (expired), a carton of eggs, leftovers from a grill you went to with some coworkers the other night, assorted condiments, and a whole case of beer.  
  
_Pathetic._

You shook your head at yourself.  
  
The steak leftovers joined the dog bowl as you placed it down in Meatloaf’s assigned eating corner. He sat patiently, drooling to himself while waiting for the signal to eat. You trained him to wait for his food as a puppy since he was a little greedy fat ass, but there was no need for it now. You waved your hand immediately and he wasted no time launching himself to the bowl.  
  
You grabbed the box of cereal and joined Meatloaf on the floor besides him, legs stretched out and ankles crossed with your back leaning against the wall. The box wasn’t entirely empty, but it wasn’t full either. You closed your eyes and ate directly from it as you listened silently to the weird, wet scarfing noises that only dogs can make when they eat.  
  
You weren’t hungover, but you weren’t feeling particularly great either. Everything felt a bit hazy and your focus was scattered. The room spun slightly as you looked down at yourself. You were still wearing the stained black dress and your hair was terribly knotted. The bobby-pins that once held your hair in a bun had either all fallen out or tangled themselves into a mess. You rubbed your arms absentmindedly as the memory of your scandalous closet escapade began to slightly resurface.  
  
Sex was never a thing you were ashamed of. Why should it be? You were 23, single, not bad to look at, and an independent woman with needs. Your job made it difficult to date— not that you had the patience for a full blown relationship— so you enjoyed the occasional one night stand. The gender of your partner was never an issue as sex was purely just a means to an end, so you had run into your fair share of interesting companions. Every encounter was a short adventure.  
  
As sexually liberated as you considered yourself to be, you weren’t entirely without rules: you never missed a single birth control pill, always used protection, and your never brought a date home. No strings, no emotions, no chance of heartbreak. It’s the way you preferred things to be. At least, that’s the way things had to be.  
  
Last night, however, you had broken one of those rules.  
  
You glanced up to your purse on the kitchen counter above you. You must have flung it there in your stupor last night as most of its contents were spilled out and fallen over the side onto the floor. From where you sat, you could spot the just-in-case condom sitting unopened in one of the pockets.  
  
“Well, shit.”  
  
There wasn’t much you felt regret over, but drunken, unprotected sex would definitely make the list.  
  
You chastised yourself for your idiocy. While you were well aware of your weakness for alcohol, you made a point to never mix it with sex. It was a dangerous cocktail that could have potentially horrifying consequences.  
  
Emergency contraception in Japan is difficult to come by without a prescription. While you had one, you never wanted to fill it purely because of the negative stigma that surrounded it. While you felt no shame, your gynecologist really gave you the third degree when you asked to be put on birth control. When you asked for morning after pills, she looked as if her eyes rolled back into her skull and saw a glimpse of Hell. It was not a pleasant check-up, to say the least.  
  
You made your way to the bathroom to find your bottle of EC. Looking into the mirror, you realized you were a bit more worse for wear than you thought. The bite mark on the crook of your neck throbbed slightly and the hickeys surrounded it settled into a deep purple shade. Normally you didn’t allow your lovers to leave any noticeable marks on you, but last night wasn’t a normal night.  
  
You were going to have to stick to turtlenecks for a while.  
  
The mirror doubled as a medicine cabinet. The EC was on the top back shelf with its label turned to avoid prying eyes. Even though you never had anyone over, you didn’t want to risk it. You began to sweat nervously as you held the pill for a moment, staring at it with contempt as you contemplated your next move. If you weren’t feeling hungover now, you soon would later. Just thinking about the side effects of EC made your stomach turn. You let out a silent sigh then dry-swallowed the little bastard.  
  
If you ever saw you mystery lover again, you were going to kick him in the nads.  
  
Cleaning yourself up for work was a simple enough task. You managed to keep up with basic hygiene, but never dolled yourself up. Doing so required more energy than you were willing to sacrifice on such a ridiculous social normality. Growing up, you were taught to never leave the mansion without a thick layer of makeup, which to you felt more like clown makeup, and whatever elegant fashion was “in” that season. Nowadays however, you wore whatever garbage you could find that actually fit your thick curves and if you ever wore makeup, it was always for yourself and no one else.  
  
You finished your shower and stood naked in front of the full length mirror on the back of your bathroom door. Only now did you notice the claw marks on your hips. Tracing along the marks with your fingertips, you scanned your entire body and got lost in the scrambled memories of last night.  
  
The bits you could recall were muted memories, as if you were watching an old silent movies with a damaged film reel. You couldn’t recall his face or the sound of his voice, but you remember the feelings. The echoes of lust and excitement all came back to you and your cheeks began to burn when the faint sounds of grunts and exaggerated panting followed closely behind. His hot, ragged breath on you neck, the cold wood of the closet wall rubbing against your back, the drop of each bead of sweat that fell from his forehead onto your skin...   
  
Focus came back to you as you slapped both palms against your cheeks. You had never spent so long thinking about someone you had only shared one night with, but for some reason this stranger was stealing your every thought. Even as you got dressed, you wondered what became of him. Did he return to the party? Did he go straight home? Speaking of, how did _you_ even get home?  
  
Actually, you didn’t want to know.  
  
You threw on the first clean clothes you could find: A tight fitted long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, tucked into a pair of high-rise slacks, and your favorite duster. You usually tried to avoid wearing all-black, but usually you failed. Today would be no different. You opted to wear your hair down for the day as not to aggravate your growing headache.  
  
As you were checking in the mirror that the high collar succeeded in its mission to hide your horrendous hickeys, you could hear the sound of your cell phone going off in the next room. The ringtone told you it was someone from work. You rushed to the living room to answer it, nearly tripping over a Meatloaf, silently thanking Drunk You for at least remembering to charge your phone when you stumbled in.  
  
You cleared your dry throat, “Yes?”  
  
_“Aw, why must you always answer the phone so bluntly? No ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’?”_  
  
The familiar whine belonged to Yuudai Chiba, the team’s lead technical analyst. He was the youngest member, only 18 years old, and always was a little too happy for you liking. Still, you occasionally found him endearing and much more tolerable than some of the people you worked with.  
  
“Saying ‘good morning’ would be a lie,” you remarked, dry swallowing some pain meds you usually kept in your duster, “my morning so far is anything but.”  
  
You could hear Yuudai laugh over the phone. _“You really should shouldn’t drink so much the night before work, Senpai.”_  
  
“It was unavoidable... And I told you to stop calling me that.”  
  
_“Well, Senpai,”_ he put emphasis on it this time, ignoring your request as usual, _“I hate to tell you this, but your morning is about to get a lot worse. We caught a fresh case this morning, Captain wants you at the scene right away.”_  
  
You let out a groan and rubbed your neck with your freehand absentmindedly, “I’m up to my eyeballs in cases right now. Can’t he find someone else?”  
  
_“Actually…,”_  Yuudai paused anxiously, _“He reassigned all your other cases. You were asked for by name to work this one.”_  
  
“WHAT?!”  
  
Meatloaf shot up from his food coma and ran to your side, sensing your mood shift like his always could, and stood by your legs. 

 _“I’m sorry! Please don’t yell! I am but the humble messenger!"_ Yuudai pleaded, only half joking.  
  
You began to pace around the coffee table, Meatloaf stayed at your heel the entire time.  
  
“This asshole must be really important if the Captain himself is pulling me off all my other cases. Who is this person?”  
  
“ _..._ ”  
  
“Chiba!”  
  
_“AH!”_ Hearing you say his last name always caught him off guard. _“I-I think it would be better if you saw for yourself… I’ll text you the address.”_  
  
“Wh—”  
  
_“Also, don’t forget to turn on your earpiece this time! I designed them to be used, not tossed in a drawer and forgotten about. You know it hurts my big manly feelings when you do that~!”_  
  
“I didn’t forget.”  
  
You were lying.  
  
Yuudai let out a sarcastic _“uh huh”_ then quickly hung up before you could ask anymore questions.  
  
You kept the flesh-colored earpiece in an empty drawer near the couch. Designed by Yuudai himself, it was so small and indiscreet that it blended in perfectly in your ear, appearing completely invisible to anyone who didn’t already know it was there. It was definitely some next-level American spy bullshit you would expect a tech genius like him to design. The only thing you loathed about it was that it connected remotely to your phone, acting as a direct line to everyone on the task force, much like a high tech walkie-talkie. Meaning anyone could contact you at anytime without you even having to answer the phone. It felt extremely intrusive, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t come in handy while in the field.  
  
As you were pairing the earpiece to you phone and placing it in right ear, you noticed a white suit jacket laying neatly on your kitchen bar. It clearly wasn’t yours.  
  
A memory came back to you. You heard his voice him your head.

_“You can’t go out like that.”_

The jacket belonged to your stranger. You must have forgotten to give it back to him. You decided to just put it on a hanger and leave it in the coat closet by the front door to collect dust, as you highly doubted you would ever see him again in order to return it. As you grabbed it, a small card that you missed sitting on top of the jacket fell to the floor. Meatloaf, who you had entirely forgotten was following you around, picked it up with his mouth and looked up to you, waiting for you to retrieve it.  
  
“Honestly, what would I do without you?”  
  
Taking the now slightly slobbered on card and giving your main man the head rub he very much deserved, you read it over. It was blank except for a short message:

 

> I expect this to be returned to me.  
>    
>  -SK

  
  
Beneath the message was a phone number. The handwriting was rather eloquent and the card itself seemed like that of a high quality business card. Whoever this “SK” was must have been the one who drove you home. Not only that, but the way the jacket and card where placed upon your counter so methodically meant that he was in your home as well. If it were you, you would have tossed it directly onto the floor without a second thought.  
  
“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself in disdain.  
  
The man had been in your home.  
  
Now, you had officially broken two rules that night.  
  
You ripped up the card and tossed it in the garbage. If the suit jacket was really that important to him, he would have taken it back when he dropped you off. This wasn’t the first time a one-time lover had “accidentally” left something of theirs with you, hoping to force a second encounter. You once found a pair of used ladies panties shoved in your duster pocket with a number written on the inside.  
  
You ended up burning them later.  
  
Leaving a note for Meatloaf’s dog walker, explaining his big breakfast and to refrain from giving him too many treats, you secured your revolver into your shoulder gun holster, clipped you badge to your waistline, kissed Meatloaf goodbye on top of his head, and headed to your car.  
  
The brisk fall air bit at your nose as rain drizzled against your skin. You jogged to your car and fought with the handle that often jammed. You could never remember the make and model of the ugly rust bucket you drove, but you couldn’t care less. It got you from point A to point B, and that’s all that matters. Once you were finally in the front seat and forced the door close, letting out a ear-piercing creak as you shut it, you checked your messages for the address of the crime scene from Yuudai.  
  
Plugging the address into your GPS, you realized it was taking you directly to the main Kaiba Corp. building.  
  
Your heart raced. Seeing the name "Kaiba" started to piece things together for you. You checked the rest of the message Yuudai sent in a panic.

 

_**"I know how u feel about corporate rich boys, so i thought i should just tell u over txt... Seto Kaiba himself requested u… by ur full name… GLHF Senpai… o(〒﹏〒)o"** _

 

Another memory came back to you.

 

_“I’m Seto Kaiba.”_

 

The note was signed SK.

 

_“I can do anything.”_

 

Seto Kaiba.  
  
You slammed your hands violently against the steering wheel.  
  
“FUCK!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader's Outfit (Kind of a combo of the 2):  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/464081936583189418/  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/789396640907638304/
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter is so late and so short! I have been working overtime every week this month and haven't really found any free time to write.  
> I also rewrote this chapter about 6 different times. After about 10k words of nonsense in my original draft, I decided I better scrap a lot of it and just spread it out into several different chapters. I'm really not happy with how it turned out, but it's better than nothing... It's super rushed and hardly proof-read at all, so feel free to point out my mistakes. ^^;  
> The next chapter will get more into detail about what Reader actually DOES for a living... and I promise it will contain 100% more Kaiba than this one did!  
> World building in an already established universe is such a chore to me.
> 
> PS, thank you to all the wonderful comments y'all left on the first chapter! I can't tell ya how motivated it made me to write even more. You guys are the absolute best! I hope I don't disappoint you in the chapters to come.


	3. (Not So) Sweet Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, on 9/12/18, I was in an accident and broke my wrist and my forearm in both bones! I ended up needing surgery and now have a titanium plate and screws holding my poor, dumb bones together. Now that I'm in recovery and finally have some small use over my fingers again, I'm exciting to be writing again! My 2 months away gave me a while to come up with new and exciting ways to torment the reader... so get ready for that!
> 
> Here is the chapter I was working on before I got the worst boo-boo ever. I really just wanted to get this published already so I cut it short and cleaned it up a bit. It's (again) rushed and not where I wanted to end this chapter, but it's good enough for now!

The drive to KaibaCorp was a short one. You lived in the same overpriced shithole for several years, but it’s location in the center of the city made all commutes fairly short and provided just enough shelter to (almost) count as a home for you and your favorite mutt, which was all that really mattered to you.

You set your car speakers to blast whatever music you could find on the radio with the heaviest bass. Hard rock usually did the trick. You weren’t really listening to it as much as you were drowning out the noise that cluttered your thoughts. If you were to do your job correctly, you had to keep a clear and focused mindset. Which was never going to happen if the text from Yuudai didn’t stop appearing in your head, taunting you with it’s very existence.

It was bad enough that you had slept with one of the top members of your “Most Loathed Rich Assholes” list that you complied over the years, but the fact that he asked for you by name pissed you off to no end. Even if he did recognize you from your family’s reputation— which would be impressive of him considering most of the younger members of the elite seemed to forget your face as you aged and faded into obscurity from the family spotlight— how did he know where you worked? Let alone what division to ask for? Why did he need _you_ specifically?

 _Sex in a coat closet doesn’t really qualify as a proper job interview,_ you thought to yourself.

As you approached the tower and the iconic Blue Eyes White Dragon statues came into view, you spotted a large crowd gathering outside the lengthy steps leading to the main doors. Reporters with news cameras and curious bystanders hurdled close together outside the police barricades, eager to get a glimpse into whatever crime occurred.

“Vultures,” you scoffed in disgust. They beat you to the scene yet again.

The road forward was completely blocked off by news vans and police cars, making it impossible to find parking. At this point in your “career”, you had grown accustomed to the chaos outside of a crime scene, so you didn’t even bother looking for a space and decided to simply drive over the curb and park in the damn grass. As you got out of the car, a young security guard in a plain uniform ran up to you with a face full of panic.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, b-but you can’t park here!”

Unlike most if the KaibaCorp goons, this guard was rather thin. The suit he wore ran on the larger side and his movements seemed frantic. The small jog over to you must have winded him because he appeared to be struggling to speak. Most annoyingly, he was in your way.

“What?!” You looked around at your car in fake shock, “Clearly this spot has my name on it!”

Sweat ran down his cheek, unsure how to reply to the madwoman before him. “This… Ma’am, this is the grass. I—”

Before he could finish, you pulled out your ID badge from your inner pocket and flipped it open for him.

“Relax, I’m joking. They’re expecting me.”

The guard took a long, hard look at your ID, occasionally glancing between you and the photo.

“A Special Agent, huh?” He said in slight disbelief. “Aren’t you a bit young to be an SA?”

Officially, you were a Special Agent with the National Police Agency, assigned to the Special Activities Division working out of Domino City. Unofficially? Your job was a bit more complicated than that, but to members of the public you were just another fancy cop who was allowed to carry a weapon.

“Yes, I am. Meanwhile, the CEO of this very building, your boss, is the same age. So I guess you could say I’m really falling behind in life.”

He blinked, still unconvinced.

“Look, I even have a shiny shield to match!” You patronized, pushing part of your duster aside to reveal the actually not-so-shiny badge clipped to your belt.

“That’s all very nice, but,” he pushed up his sunglasses with his index finger, “I still don’t think you’re allowed to park here…”

You were tired of discussing parking. You never had this much trouble just getting into a crime scene. Throwing your hands up in a ‘giving up’ fashion, you pushed past him.

You yelled sarcastically behind you, “write me a ticket then!”

Leaving the guard dumbfounded where he stood, the crowd noticed you as soon as you moved past the barriers and ducked under the police tape, shouting useless questions at you that you had no answers to. You pulled your sunglasses out from your inner pocket and put them on to avoid having your face plastered all over the 12-o’clock news. The flashes from their cameras made you wince. Their ravings eventually caught the attention of two men standing at the top of the stairs who turned to look at you as you walked up.

One you recognized as your lieutenant.

The other was a handsome billionaire whose balls were about to be kicked up into his throat.  

Lieutenant Keiji Fudo was a short, portly, well-kempt man who looked more like a college professor than a respected high-ranking officer in the Domino NPA. The bushy mustache, receding hairline that was customary among many men his age, goofy tie, and tiny, circle frame glasses only added to the look that he was so very proud of. If you were being honest, he kind of looked like a nerdier version of the mascot for the game _Monopoly_.

Seto Kaiba, formally Mystery Man, stood at Fudo’s side, towering him in comparison. Arms crossed, white coat billowing in the wind, a permanent scowl printed on his face, and hips cocked out in a way that only the pretentious know how to achieve. From the looks of him, one would never be able to guess that just some-odd hours ago, he was nearly piss drunk and balls-deep in some random chick in a coat closet at a charity party.

_Bastard._

“Ah!” Fudo called out your name as you approached, “nice of you to finally join us!”

The volume of his voice aggravated your growing headache. You simply nodded to him. “Lieutenant.”

You eventually made your way up the disgusting drawn-out steps (all the while trying to remember the name of the _Monopoly_ man) and met them both at the top. You took off your sunglasses now that your were a safe distance away from the media buzzards and met face of the man who was supposed to be a one-night stand. Kaiba couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you.

 _Dammit_ _... Of course he’s even more beautiful in the daylight._

Fudo patted your shoulder. “You look unwell, did you sleep alright?”

That was your lieutenant’s polite way of saying you looked like shit.

You tucked your sunglasses away. “You know me, Fudo. I was never good at counting sheep,” you looked at Kaiba with a coy half-smile and put your hands in your duster’s pockets out of habit, “especially not when there is fun to be had elsewhere.”

“Yes, uh, indeed, well,” Fudo stammered, suddenly uncomfortable with how casual you were behaving in front of the KaibaCorp CEO, “Mr. Kaiba, this is Special Age—”

“We’ve met,” Kaiba interrupted, finally speaking, “Isn’t it unprofessional to be out late and partying like a teenager when you have work in the morning?” He countered with a smug smile of his own.

“I could say the same to you.”

“I’m the chief executive officer of the world’s largest multinational gaming conglomerate, I show up when I’m good and ready. What position do you hold that allows you such leniency?”

“A classified one.”

Fudo, who was starting to feel left out, clapped his hand together and ended the dick-measuring contesting between you and Kaiba. “As much as I would love to learn about how the two of you equally impressive youngsters met, there is a crime scene waiting to analyzed.”

“Hmph,” Kaiba took a step back, not realizing that he had inched himself closer to you as the two of you spoke. “I have no equal.”

Based on his dueling history, you _knew_ that wasn’t true, but decided to keep your comments to yourself for now.

“I still haven’t been told why I’m here, Lieutenant.”

“No? Did Mr. Chiba not fill you in on the details on your way here?”

“I’m sure he tried,” You pulled your earpiece out of one of the pockets you had your hands in, “but he was in time out.”

Fudo pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, pointing to his ear as a silent command for you to wear your earpiece.

“Honestly, it is like pulling teeth to get you to wear your gear, child.”

You followed orders, placing the earpiece back in and pressing against your tragus. You heard the small button beneath it click, followed by a subtle, familiar beep that let you know it was connected to the task force frequency.

“There. Happy? Now, if I’m here, I’m assuming that means there was a crime? Maybe some bad guys who need to be punched?”

The CEO let out a judgmental laugh. “Even with slightly advanced technology at your actual fingertips, you’re still so uninformed.” He turned on his heel and began to walk off towards the building. “Just follow me. Try to keep up.”

Fudo gave you the Stop-Embarrassing-Me-In-Front-Of-People look that you were way too accustomed to.

“What?” You shrugged your shoulders as innocently as you could manage.

“I do not know how you managed to catch the eye of Seto Kaiba, or how he came to learn of the existence of our merry band of misfits, but I guarantee you this spells trouble.” Fudo cautioned, then quickly jogged to catch up with Kaiba.

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the job to come.

 

* * *

 

There were a few cops walking around the building’s main entrance, but overall it was decently vacant. The few KaibaCorp staff members that you spotted were either the morning cleaning crew, desk clerks, or secretaries. All were being questioned by officers. Their faces were dressed in confusion as they did their best to account for their whereabouts. It was the weekend and rather early in the morning, but all work seemed to come to a halt for the time being as all the exits and entrances were carefully guarded by either normal cops or big, burly KaibaCorp security guards. Meaning the staff members currently present must have already been in the building when the body was found. Otherwise, they would not have been able to get in.

No one was allowed in or out.

The guard standing in front of what looked to be a private elevator couldn’t get out of Kaiba’s way fast enough as he approached.

“They’re with me,” he informed the guard. “If you see Mokuba, do not let him pass and send him home. He is to stay there until I know what we’re dealing with.”

The guard was quick with his reply. “Yes sir, Mr. Kaiba!”

The three of you stepped into the elevator. You leaned your back against the wall as the doors closed and Kaiba scanned his employee badge to the infrared scanner. The emergency contraceptive must have been kicking in, because as soon as the car flung upwards, you swiftly felt nauseous. You attempted to steady yourself on the handrails behind you as your eyes naturally fell to the floor.

That’s when you happened to noticed black track marks on the floor of the elevator, as if something heavy on wheels was rolled in. You found this odd, seeing as every inch of KaibaCorp was exceptionally clean at all times— especially the floors— making the track marks really stand out. However, you noted that you didn’t see matching marks on the floor leading into the elevator when the three of you entered, which meant that whatever was rolled in didn’t enter from the ground floor.

You placed that thought in the back of your mind as Kaiba began to speak.

“Since you chose to be incompetent and deliberately came to work uninformed, I will tell you the short version of today’s events. Around 6 AM this morning, my secretary walked into my office to place my morning reports on my desk. That’s when she found the body. She called me immediately, absolutely hysterical.”

Your stomach began to settle and managed to catch your breath in time to respond, “How much did she see?”

“Enough to be rendered utterly useless to me after.”

“Nice to see you were concerned for your employee’s mental health.”

Kaiba ignored your comment as he continued, arms folded and glare aim directly at you.

“As soon as I arrived and saw for myself what she discovered, I knew I couldn’t just leave this to any normal detective. I recalled seeing your Special Agent shield in your purse during our…” Kaiba glanced over to Fudo, then back to you, carefully trying to configure his words as not to give away his R-rated encounter with you the previous night in front your commanding officer. “...last _conversation_. I decided to do a little digging. You’re a hard woman to find, as I'm sure you know."

You cocked your head at him. “I’m in the Special Activities Division, Kaiba. Of course I was hard to find. I’m a nationwide agent, not some local homicide detective. I especially don’t make house calls just because you asked daddy really nicely. How did you convince our captain to call me in, anyways?”

“The NPA’s database was simple enough to hack into,” his grin returned. You could tell he was proud of himself. “But there was almost no trace of you in the system outside of simply stating you were employed, and that was it. Your file was completely empty. No past cases, no time cards, not even a history of you even being on a payroll. I had almost given up, until I found a hidden file marked ‘Zenith’ coded into the folder itself, but most of the files were heavily encrypted. While I’m positive I could get into them, that would have required time I did not have. It didn’t take a genius to piece together that you were in some sort of covert operation, so I made a few calls, threw that name around, and suddenly I had an entire battalion of government officials lining up to speak with me and deliver you straight to me.”

 _Shit,_ you cursed to yourself. You could feel Fudo next to you almost drowning in a nervous sweat. Kaiba had discovered Zenith after all. You had to find out how much he actually knew before either of you accidentally revealed too much. You decided to take the direct approach.

“So what, pray tell, did the ‘battalion’ tell you about me? About Zenith?”

“Your captain personally assured me you were the best ‘field agent’ the department had. I didn’t ask about Zenith simply because I couldn’t care less about whatever black operation nonsense you actually do. I can access that information anytime I please if I wished. I sought _you_ out because I need this handled quickly and discreetly so my company can get back to work, and I can’t afford to take any chances with some overworked detective who can’t or won’t give me their absolute 100%.” He chucked to himself. “You should feel honored.”

The Captain wasn’t exactly known for giving out praise, so your heart felt a bit warm knowing that he even recognized your existence.

“Honored?” You spat. “You broke federal law— which I should arrest you for, mind you— by hacking into the database of a major branch of the government in order to gain access to who you believe to be a ‘covert agent’ to personally solve your little problem because you are impatient. I what ‘feel’ is _stalked_.”

Kaiba opted not to reply, but that self-righteous grin did not fade. You turned to your Lieutenant, looking for advice. You could tell from his stare that he was not pleased so far with your behavior towards the situation or the manner in which you were speaking to Seto Kaiba, the very powerful man who currently had the balls of every NPA commanding officer in a vice-grip even with the little information that he managed to get a hold of. This did not seem to deter your poor attitude towards the entire situation, however.

Fudo shook his head. “Look, all your other cases have already been reassigned. It has already been decided for you: you will be working this case with your attention undivided. As much as you might dislike the situation, I am positive you will have a change of heart once you see the crime scene for yourself.”

Your lieutenant looked at your with what could almost pass as puppy-dog eyes, begging you to just give it a chance for the sake of the task force.

“... Fine,” you surrendered, “I’ll stop my protest for now only because I’m sure Mr. Kaiba would just blackmail the entire department otherwise. Can’t have him exposing Zenith just because baby didn’t get his bottle.”

The Big CEO Baby grunted, aggravated by your disrespectful comments. “Don’t act as if you know me.”

“I don’t have to know you personally to know how men in your position operate,” the elevator came to a halt on the top floor as you spoke, “you’re all the same.”

Kaiba offered you no words in response as the elevator doors opened. He pushed past you to be the first one to exit the car into the rather large waiting room, you following closely behind (albeit reluctantly).

The pungent scent of rot and iron assaulted your nostrils. Despite your experience in the field, you still felt anxious before walking into a crime scene. It was an instinct you were thankful for. You never wanted to become accustomed to the dread.

When you did not hear your lieutenant's heavy footsteps behind you, you stopped and turned to find him still in the elevator.

“Lieutenant?”

He started fiddling with his fingers. “I… have no desire to look upon that gruesome scene in person again. I have had my fill for today. I will head back to base to report to the Captain in the meantime.” He looked up from his hands with sorrowful eyes. There was a weak tremble in his voice as he spoke. “Prepare yourself, child. Please behave yourself.”

You nodded obediently, “Yes, Lieutenant.”

As the doors closed and your heart began to sink, knowing the cause of his aversion to homicide cases, you noticed it:

Black track marks on the otherwise beautiful floors leading out of the elevator, perfectly matching the ones you spotted earlier.

Kaiba’s voice from behind you interrupted your thoughts yet again. He was really making it hard for you to do your job.

“I didn’t think the lieutenant of a covert ‘task group’ was allowed to be squeamish.”

You scrunched your face in disgust, offended on Fudo’s behalf. Kaiba was really starting to get on your last nerve.

“He has his reasons, none of which are any of your business,” you started to turn back to Kaiba, “besides, he’s not a field agent anymo—”

You almost bumped into Kaiba’s chest as he was standing a mere centimeters away from you. Breath still lingering with the faint scent of whiskey, you fought off the sudden rush of attraction you were feeling as lewd memories flashed in your mind.

He spoke with a low, deep voice, head tilted down to give you full eye-contact. “Have you always been this irksome?”

Taking a quick look around the waiting room, you were pretty much alone aside from a few crime scene investigators, who were entirely distracted sweeping the room for potential evidence, and the guard near the elevator.

“I’ve been told it’s one of my more endearing qualities,” you replied playfully, returning his glare with your own, speaking in an equally low voice. “Now that my lieutenant is out of ear shot, be honest: what’s the _real_ reason you wanted me here? There are a myriad of other agents with credentials similar to mine that you could have picked to be your personal pet detective that didn’t require you to circumvent the law just to contact.”

“I already told you, I only want the best.”

“Then why hack into the NPA database just to find me? You dropped me off at my apartment last night, you could have just knocked on my door.”

“Would you have _really_ come if _I_ asked?”

He had you there. You made a point never to mix work and pleasure.

“At any rate, I would have just called you, had the phone number you gave me not been false…”

A snicker escaped from your lips. Giving out a false number was definitely in your M-O.

Kaiba, however, was not as amused.

He continued, “...and I wasn’t about to waste time driving all the way to your place in the middle of the city during morning traffic without knowing whether or not you were even a halfway decent detective capable of fulfilling my needs.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with the way I fulfilled them last night.”

The words had already escaped your mouth before you catch them. Usually you internalized a good portion of your immature thoughts, but this one managed to escaped your ‘bullshit’ filter. Every bone in your body wanted to jump out of your skin and make a run for the emergency exit.

Much to your surprise, the seemly unflappable CEO became noticeably flushed.

After recovering from his initial shock, his eyes softened and grinned as he replied, “Well then, if your performance last night was any indication of your skill as ‘one of the bureau's best’, then I suspect you will have no issue solving this case quickly and to _completion_.”

It was your turn to blush.

The small number of conversations you had with the man thus far seemed to always escalate to some sort of spat or competition. In addition to the EC pill currently twisting your stomach into knots and wreaking havoc in your skull with a headache that you were sure would probably last until the day you died, you were feeling especially irritated, and Kaiba just so happened to be the exact type of arrogant prick that you hated.

Under normal circumstances, you would have simply kept your mouth shut and ignored him, killing all attempts at conversation with your indifference to his very existence. However, after less than day, Seto Kaiba had managed to not only get under your skirt, but also under your skin, bringing out a part of you that was usually reserved for suspects under interrogation or your mother.

Flirting (if that’s what you could even call whatever was happening between the two of you) was definitely not something you expecting to be doing right now. Especially not at a _crime scene_ that you still had yet to see. You were starting to feel cornered and truly just wanted to get this job finished so you could go home to your dog and never see this guy ever again. Despite your frustrations, you decided that you couldn’t lose you cool now just because you had slept together and this entire situation felt way too personal.

As easy as flipping a switch, you settled the screaming in your head and gathered yourself in order to return to _Special Agent_ mode. Without breaking eye contact, you took a step back from him and humbly accepted being the first to back down.

“I intend to do just that,” you concluded, “believe me.”

Just as you were about to walk off in search of the responding officer for more details before heading into the crime scene, the doors to the public elevator (which was a decent distance from the private elevator you rode in) opened, letting two uniformed cops out. The one you recognized as Officer Iruma was rubbing the back of a younger and sickly-looking cop.

“Iruma!” you called out to him while darting away awkwardly from Kaiba. “Broke another new rookie already, I see?”

Iruma sighed, unamused. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose with his slender fingers and continued rubbing the back of the man next to him. “Nice to see you again, Special Agent. Although I wish it was under better circumstances.”

While you didn’t know Iruma’s first name, you were still rather familiar with him. He wasn’t the brightest cop you knew but he was the friendliest. Most at the Domino City PD gave you a wide berth as your “Special Agent” title allowed you to maneuver much like a ghost throughout the entire bureau. Since your official job was confidential and you outranked even the highest of their detectives, you left a lot of them either scared or resentful as you had a tendency to swoop in and take their cases. You didn’t care what any of them thought, you were just doing your job after all. Nonetheless, it did make cooperating on cases a million times harder than it needed to be.

Iruma, however, treated you like he would treat anyone else. He aided you in whatever ways he could purely because his dedication to the job. He was true believer in the law. You respected him a great deal and held him in a higher regard than anyone else in his department, so you tried to reign in your attitude the best you could while speaking to him.

He continued. “This is the newest member of our department, Hiroto Honda. Honda, this is the Special Agent I was talking about earlier who got assigned the case.”

“It’s… nice to meet you.” Honda bowed slightly, looking towards the ground with closed eyes. He was clearly worked up over something.

“It’s only his second day walking the beat with me,” the senior officer explained.

“Ah, that explains the lingering smell of barf then. Is it safe to assume this is your first cold body?” you asked Honda.

The tall, clean-cut brunette greeted you with cold, pale eyes. You’d seen that look before; the look of someone who had seen death for the first time. He wiped the sweat from his tan skin and stood up straight. “I’m sorry,” he said weakly, “the smell just… it was unreal.”

“That’s alright, Rookie,” Iruma returned to rubbing Honda’s back. “I told you it happens to everyone.”

“Not to me,” Kaiba interjected from behind you, butting his way into the conversation. “And I’m a civilian.”

You resisted the urge to elbow him in the gut in his own building.

Junior Officer Honda met Kaiba with a glare that surprised you. “You’re anything but civil, Kaiba. We both know that.”

“Do you two know each other?” You asked, not really directing the question to a certain person.

“Unfortunately” The CEO shrugged.

“Kaiba is a friend of a friend… and I am using the word _‘friend’_ loosely.”

“Yugi isn’t a ‘friend’. He’s an employee, nothing more.”

Honda let out a hefty laugh.

“Yeah, try telling _him_ that!”

As the two squabbled away over personal stuff you weren’t interested in, you turned your attention back to Officer Iruma. His eyes were fixated on the door leading into the Kaiba’s office.

“Iruma, were you two the first responders?”

His name suddenly being called snapped him out of his almost trance-like stare. “Hm? Oh, yes. We were. I’ve gotta admit, agent, out of all my years on the force, I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit… but nothing quite matches up to the heinous sight in there. You oughta prepare yourself.”

He was the second to say that to you today.

“No offense, but this is hardly my first body.”

“I guess that’s true. I’ve heard rumors 'bout some of the cases you’ve worked on… nasty stuff. Still, I hope you have an iron stomach.”

Right as he said that, a knot twisted in your gut. You worried the side effects from the EC would embarrass you further today.

“Iron… right.”

“...Well,” Iruma urged, “I’ll show you to your victim. Right this way, ma'am.”

As Officer Iruma caught the attention of Officer Honda and ushered you both towards the CEO’s Office, you could hear Kaiba following closely behind. You turned on your heel and put your hand against his chest, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“What do you think you are doing?” He raised an eyebrow to you.

You pushed slightly on his chest. “Me? I was about to ask you that same question.”

Kaiba grabbed your wrist, but he didn’t remove it from his chest. He just held it tightly, almost darning you to make a move.

“That’s my office, I have every right to go in there.”

“Actually, Mr. Kaiba” you replied snidely, not flinching under his grasp, “that’s _my_ crime scene for _my_ case. You’re the one who literally demanded I take it. Besides, you said it yourself earlier: you’re just a civilian.”

“I’ve already seen it, remember? I am more than capable of handling myself.”

“Then I’m sure standing here in the waiting room while I go work will be child’s play to you.”

The CEO’s eyes grew darker as he paused and scowled deeper at the stubborn woman before him. You were unwavering in your determination to be a thorn in his side. Parts of him began to regret requesting you take his case. Yet, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. No matter how much he hated the way you spoke to him so casually, it had been a long time since someone challenged him so directly. He wasn’t threatened in anyway, but rather interested.

Kaiba released his grip on you wrist, choosing to remain silent while backing away slowly with his arms raised in sarcastic defeat.

“Thank you,” you smiled and turned to catch up with the two officers, continuing to speak to him with your back turned. “Please don’t try to follow us in either. I don’t want to have to shoot you!”

Okay, maybe he was a _little_ threatened.

Honda could only stare in bemusement. That might have been the first time he had ever witnessed Seto Kaiba willingly back down to anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you not paying attention, the score is:  
> Reader: 1  
> Kaiba: 1
> 
> There are a few clues laid out throughout the chapter that will be crucial in the coming chapters! Some more obvious than the others. This chapter was really dialogue heavy, but the next chapter will probably be the opposite. 
> 
> That being said, this is your WARNING! The next chapter WILL involve gore. This is a crime series, after all! To what extent? I'm not really sure yet. I don't want to overwhelm everyone all at once yet with heavy dread and, to be frank, I'm not the best with... /death/. I honestly don't know why I'm subjecting myself to this torment... my first drafts of this story had the reader as a flower shop owner... I don't know how I got from that to... this LMFAO. (I'll try to remember to put a warning at the beginning of the next chapter for those who would prefer not to read about nasty big time crime gore)
> 
> I took a LOT of artistic liberties when creating the reader's job and the NPA. You'll obviously learn more soon, but man... I'm mostly pulling from american television, some in-depth research, and my own dumb ass. I also decided to write Honda in as a cop since that was the job I most associated him with growing up. Don't worry, I plan to write everyone in eventually to some extent. Yugi especially! 
> 
> As always, I'm happy to answer any questions or comments. Big things are happening, people! *eyes emoji*


	4. Player 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Descriptions of gore! Proceed at your own risk.

You slipped on a pair of plastic shoe covers, heart continuing to race while you stood before the door to Seto Kaiba’s office.

“What are these things?” you heard Honda ask Iruma.

The senior officer sighed, “You rookies… did you forget everything you learned back in basic training? They’re crime scene booties, boy.”

“Booties…? OH, right!”

“Just put them on your damn feet.”

You tugged on the tight latex gloves and released them to hear that satisfying _snap!_ against your skin. You watched as Iruma handed Honda a face mask, insisting he keep it together this time.

“Alright,” you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “let's get this over with.”

As Iruma opened the door and lifted the crime scene tape, allowing you to slip under, the foul stench of death that ghosted the waiting room was now assaulting your entire olfactory system.

Dead ahead from your line of sight at the end of the long room was the CEO’s desk, placed almost menacingly in front of large windows that overlooked the entire city. It appeared that someone was sitting in his chair, but you couldn’t make out any details due to the bright morning sun piercing through the window panes. They were nothing but a mere silhouette, but you could tell their back was turned in the chair.

Above their head, sprawled across the three windows was the word "LOSER". The letters were written in some sort of red liquid that looked to be melting to the ground, but it was long since dried. Your best guess? Given the circumstances, it was most likely blood.  

Honda attempted to stifle a cough.

As you approached the body and rounded the grand mahogany desk, you finally understood why everyone was warning you to brace yourself. You didn’t blink, but you understood why they did.

Before you sat the corpse of what you assumed to be a middle aged male; gray, medium length hair, long unkempt beard, about average height— though it was hard to be exact since he was sitting and slouched— and appeared to be slightly malnourished. The lower part of his abdomen was sliced wide open with a clean, leaving his innards spilling out of him and onto his lap and the floor. The man’s head was tilted back with his mouth ajar and his eyes gazing upwards, almost as if he was staring in horror at the letters across the window.

“If you’re going to be sick again, please throw up in an evidence bag this time,” you heard Iruma tell Honda.

You got as close as you could without stepping in the blood that pooled at his feel. Looking inside his mouth, you could barely see the slight, dissipating bubbling of white foam trailing down the back of his throat.

The man was dressed in a jumpsuit that appeared to be some sort of costume. The material was cheap yet vibrant shades of red and black. Aside from the cut in his abdomen, the his outfit remained untampered; no scuffed or defensive wounds. On his left breast pocket was a white “1” stitched into the material. Tilting your head to look at his back, you could see there was writing on the upper back of jumpsuit as well, but it was blocked by the back of the chair.

“Hm, has forensics already documented his room?” you asked Iruma without looking up.

He nodded. “They have. Finished up right before we left.”

“Any ID? Cellphone?”

“Nope, neither. Mr. Kaiba mentioned to us earlier that neither him nor his staff recognized the man. ”

“Did CSU give the okay to move the body?”

“They did!”

You took your worn, black duster off and handed it off to Iruma out of habit. He took it without question. He was used to holding your things at this point.

“Good. Officer Rookie,” you asked after Honda, trying to mask the fact that you had forgotten his name for a brief moment, “help me for a second.”

Honda nearly jumped out of his shoes. “M-me?!”

You glanced over to him, your head still turned toward the body, with a look that said: “yes, you dumbass”.

Honda gulped and reluctantly walked over to give you a hand.

With Honda on the opposite side of him, you leaned the man forward. The motion forced the victim’s torso to push some of his guts to fall off his lap. They made a distinctive squishing noise as they hit the ground. The rookie officer held his breath and averted his eyes to the ceiling while you paid it no mind.

Much like the “1”, stitched on the man’s back was "PLAYER 1” in large text across his back. It seemed to be some sort of jersey.

“Hm, interesting.” you said under your breath.

“What?” Honda said, almost sickly, “What did you fi _—_ ”

Before he could finish his sentence, you released the victim’s shoulder to look more around the room. Honda struggled to lift the torso back in the chair as the weight almost pulled him to the ground.

The entirety of the office looked untouched. Nothing appeared to be taken or disturbed in any way. The only evidence besides the body and windows were more black track marks leading directly to crime scene.

You grinned as you knelt down to get a closer look at the tracks beneath your feet.

“I know that look!” Iruma laughed as Honda raced back to his side.

“What look?”

“Your ‘I Just Pieced Some Clues Together’ look.”

“I do not have a look.”

“Oh, you definitely do.”

Before you could argue further, Kaiba barged into the room.

“Alright,” he made a beeline for you but stopped next to the two officers once he remembered his office was currently a crime scene, “I’ve had just about enough of waiting around. Have you uncovered anything useful yet?”

“It’s been less than fifteen minutes. I thought we agreed you were going to wait in the hall?”

While you might have been talking to Kaiba, you weren’t exactly looking at him. Your eyes searched the room, observing the exits and looking for anything that stood out. It was something you learned during combat training that you found yourself doing practically all the time without realizing. It made you a good agent, but the lack of eye contact tended to throw people off a bit from time-to-time. Even during casual conversations, you found yourself looking around, counting the doors, and memorizing faces.

Seto Kaiba, however, did not appear phased. “No, _you_ agreed to tha _—_.”

You cut him off, raising the volume of your voice a bit to command the conversation. “Since you’re here, does anything about your office seem off to you? Anything missing or moved?”

Kaiba shook his head, “Besides the rotting corpse sitting at my desk without my permission? No. I checked before you arrived.”

The gears spun in your head. There was a thought forming, but you couldn’t complete it. Something was missing. You returned to the body.

Honda, covering his mouth with his hand, nudged and whispered to Kaiba next to him, “is she always this intense?”

“How should I know?” Kaiba sneered and wiped his arm where Honda had touched him.

“Oh,” Honda reeled back a bit. “I just assumed from the way the two of you interact that you were close.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let anyone get close to me.”

Iruma interrupted cheerfully while patting your duster, “don’t worry, boys. Soon she’ll start thinkin’ out loud. That’s when she gets truly impressive.”

The three of them remained silent for some time. They watched as you paced around the body, glaring intensely; demanding it speak to you. It wasn’t until you took one more look at the guts spilling out of the man that you finally knew what was missing.

“Oh course!” you exclaimed under your breath. You leaned over the body and searched through the pile of entrails both on his lap and on the ground.

“Here we go…” Iruma braced himself for the show that he had seen many times before.

Your face was stoic as usual, but inside you could feel the adrenaline pumping as your suspicion as confirmed. You loved the sensation of putting clues together. It was quite the rush. You straightened yourself up and walked back over to the group with bloodied gloves.

“I know how he died,” you proclaimed.

Kaiba wasted no time before retorting, “that much was obvious.”

“Kind of hard to miss it… when it’s laying all over the floor,” Honda gagged a little as he spoke.

“The gash? That’s not how he died. This man was already dead when that happened.”

The three men exchanged confused glaces before returning back to you.

You let out a sigh and made you way back to the body.

“The blood beneath him is pooled. There’s no arterial spray, meaning that his heart was not pumping at the time of the gutting. This man was already dead. My guess? Probably some sort of poison.” You gestured to Honda and Iruma. “There’s white residue in the back of his mouth, I would make a note to have the medical examiner take some samples.”

Iruma hit Honda with his elbow. “You heard the lady.”

Honda swiftly took out his notepad as you continued.

“I think the gutting was just a means to an end. Out of everything that has... fallen out of him, there is one thing missing: his _stomach_. I think whatever he ingested was important to the killer in some way.”

“Like a trophy?” Honda asked.

“No… I don’t think so. Serial Killers who take trophies usually take small things they can hide and preserve, like a piece of jewelry or a tooth. An entire stomach would be unusual, to say the least. It’s messy and would eventually deteriorate. I think it’s contents held evidence that could reveal his identity, giving him no option but to remove it.”

" _'Serial killer'_?" Iruma asked, "so you think this person has killed more people?"

You offered him a somber look. "If he hasn't before, he will."

"Why do you say that?"

"The numbering on his clothing," you pointed to the body, "it says 'PLAYER 1'. In video games, usually when there is a Player 1 _—_ "

" _—_ There is also a Player 2…" Kaiba finished your thought. He was surprised you knew anything about video games.

You nodded. "I predict there will be more bodies. This man, whoever he is, was lured into game. One he evidently lost."

Everyone in the room looked towards the bloody graffiti on the window.

The impatient CEO crossed his arms and grumbled, “who cares how he died? I just want to know who he is, why he’s here, and how the hell he even managed to get up here in the first place.”

“From the looks of it, I’d say he’s homeless.” You walked around the body, pointing to different area of him. “He looks as if he hasn’t had a shower or a haircut in quite some time. He has a few missing teeth and a handful of old scars. The fact that there isn’t a single defensive wound or mark on his entire body tells me that the murderer was probably someone he either trusted or promised him a free meal. If we ever do find his stomach, I bet you it will be empty aside from whatever he was poisoned with.”

You walked over to the marks on the floor as you continued. “See these black tracks here? They’re from some sort of cart that was used to wheel him in with. I saw them in the elevator while we were riding up. Assuming that this liquid is some sort of oil or dirt, our best guess is the killer entered through some sort of employee entrance disguised as a staff member. Probably cleaning crew or maintenance; whoever would look the most natural pushing some sort of utility cart that the body could have been hidden in.”  

Kaiba chimed in. “All members of my staff, regardless of their rank, have to go through a heavy screening process. I don’t hire just anyone off the street. Entering the elevators alone requires a badge and a pin number. And the number of people who have access to my private elevator is a small one."

“I'm going to need their names. I'm also going to need a list of whoever was scheduled to work this morning, regardless of their rank or title. We can cross reference that with that list of people who actually came into work today. I'll also need access to any and all surveillance footage from last night, especially the ones for this floor.”

Kaiba scowled. "You have a funny way of saying 'please'. Almost sounds like you're ordering me around."

You ignored him as a thought bore it's way into your mind. Something Kaiba has said about not hiring 'just anyone off the street' sat with you, festering. Something was off. You started pacing and eventually found yourself moving closer to him after the memory of the security guard who annoyed you about parking on the grass popped into your head.

"Your security goons. Is the hiring process tight to become one?"

Kaiba snorted, as if you were asking something stupid. "Of course it is."

"Even building security? Do they all look like the guy downstairs? Big? Beefy? Could break a man's neck with just his eyes?"

"The requirements for both are the same. I protect my company just as I would protect my own life."

There it was.

Adrenaline pumped through your heart and into your veins, but this time it wasn't excitement. It was panic. Iruma noticed the look on your face. "What are you thinking?" He asked.

Your eyes darted back to the large windows as you hurried back to them. Looking down below, you searched for your car. Everyone looked like ants. "One of the security guards stopped me when I arrived. He wasn't like the rest of the guard I've seen around the building. He was short, lanky. His suit didn't even fit. Almost as if _—_ "

There is was: your car. The small, ugly beast. Even from this height, it was still so easily spotted. A real eyesore. Next to it stood the guard, King of the Grass. His back was turned and looking at you car. You squinted, barely able to make out what he was doing. He then turned and looked up to the building, almost as if he could see you. Almost as if he knew you were looking at him. A feeling reverberated in your spine. It was something evil, something dark.

Then he smiled at you.

Instinct took over as you sprinted past the group, heading straight to the waiting room and towards the elevators. Your muscles still ached from the night before, but you willed them to move anyways. You tapped your tragus against the call button of the earpiece and was instantly patched into a call with Chiba.

He answered as he always did. _"What's up, Senpai?"_

"I need eyes! Front entrance near the stairs!" You yelled, voice racing and demanding. It was a tone Chiba was familiar with. "Suspect is thin, short, with black hair and sunglasses. Dressed as building security. Last seen near my car!"

_"Got it!"_

You got back to the elevators and ripped the protective booties off from over your boots, discarding them to the side somewhere along with the plastic gloves. Assuming Kaiba's private elevator was the faster of the two, you ran up to it and slammed the down arrow. Kaiba and the two officers ran after you. Honda's own booties caused him to slip, but Iruma helped him up.

"What's going on?!" Kaiba demanded.

"The killer! He might still be here! I _—_ " the opening elevator doors cut you off. " _STAY_ here!" You pointed to the ground where he stood as you entered the car, followed by Iruma and Honda. You hadn't told them to come with, but years of experience told Iruma that a pursuit was about to happen and that he should stay close. You rapidly pressed the button, but the doors refused to close.

The CEO didn't obey. "You need my key card to use the elevator, idiot." He ran in and stood behind you.

You grunted, then yanked him close to you to pull the key card out of his coat. Luckily you remembered which pocket he kept it in. Much to your surprise, he didn't stop you. The man who, to the rest of the world, felt untouchable just let you manhandle him and riffle through his coat. He didn't even step back after you moved him closer, instead opted to remain where you placed him mere centimeters from yourself. For all he knew, you could have been grabbing him to throw him out of the elevator car. His passive behavior perplexed you, but you didn't dwell on it. You couldn't dwell on it.

You scanned the ID, pressed the ground floor button with all your might, then turned to return the card to its original pocket as the doors closed and it made its way down. You wondered if you should steal his wallet while you were at it just for fun, but you decided to save that for another day. As you opened his coat, you looked up at his face for some reason. His eyes were transfixed on your hands. He was lost in a memory. Unfortunately, you knew which one. The air of sexual tension hit you like a ton of bricks. Even in the pursuit of a potential killer, it endured. You wished to every god you could think of that it they could just turn it off for the day because it was truly distracting.

Knowing he was watching, you slid the key card into the pocket deliberately slow. You were toying with him, but you _both_ seemed to be reliving the drunken memory in your minds: your hands undoing his shirt, tracing their way down his bare chest, grabbing at the hem of his pants. When you slipped the key card all the way in, you watched as his eyes closed tightly and he took a deep breath in. You thought you could almost feel him shutter. He opened his eyes to meet yours. For a moment, a very brief moment, it felt as if you both were back in that closet during the peaceful aftermath where you helped each other get dressed. Alone together.

But you weren't alone now. You let go of his coat and turned away, suddenly keenly aware of the other two in the elevator. Kaiba still didn't move.

Iruma and Honda both observed the interaction as if they were tourist on a safari tour, watching two lions about to copulate.

You willed the elevator to go faster.

As the doors opened, you dashed between them and passed the guard. You couldn't wait for the others to catch up. As you flung through the front doors of KaibaCorp, the crisp fall air reminded you that Iruma still had your coat. The cold bit at your skin as you ran towards the edge where the stairs began to descend. You came to a halt when you caught sight of your car and the news cameras, but the 'guard' was nowhere to be seen. You missed him.

Chiba's voice rang in your ear. _"Sorry boss, there are no security cameras overlooking the area where you parked your car. I was unable to track him…"_   There was a sadness in his voice. He hated letting you down. You were angry, but not at him. Never at him.

"Alright, Chiba. Good work. Get a hold of the security footage from inside the building and around the block. If we can't track him down, we can at least find out where he entered the building from and what direction he ran off in." You bit your lip. The media vultures paid little mind to you as you quickly made your way down the steps and towards your car. There was some sort of paper on your car that wasn't there before. 

You pulled the pale yellow slip from under your windshield wipers. It was a page from an fake Domino City Police ticket book. In sloppy handwriting, the note read: _"See you both soon for Level 2!"_ He even drew a little heart at the end.

The bastard had actually written you a ticket.

Iruma and Honda finally caught up, both winded. Kaiba remained at the top of the stairs, not wanting to stir the horde of camera crew nearby with his presence.

The senior officer, finally catching his breath, handed you your coat. "You might want to cover that," Iruma said, referring to the revolver in your shoulder holster. Japan was very strict on guns, so the mere sight of one could be enough to upset some people. You agreed and slipped the duster back on. It was starting to drizzle as the air grew colder.

"We lost him." You felt defeated. "I talked to him, Iruma. I was within arm's length of him. I _had_ him." You hands found their place in your coat pockets.

"You couldn't have known."

"It's my job to know. I should have realized he wasn't a KC goon from the second I laid eyes on him." You berated yourself, folding the ticket and putting it in your duster pocket. You'd have to get it to forensics as soon as possible for analysis, but you already knew they weren't going to find much. The noise coming from the crowd of media crews grew louder after they caught a glimpse of The Great Seto Kaiba at the top of the steps. An idea came to you.

"Iruma, Honda. I need you to go to every single camera man over there and obtain their footage from today. The fake guard might be on it."

Honda flinched. "All of them? Without a warrant?"

"Yes. If they object, arrest them for withholding evidence and send them downtown."

Honda looked to is commanding officer. "Can we even do that?"

Iruma smirked and said, "we can sure as hell try." He gave you a small nod and took off with the rookie cop. You were sure to see him again later on.

A weight came crashing down on your shoulders. The note on the fake mentioned a "Level 2", leading you to believe you were right. There were doing to be more victims _—_ more deaths. The EC turned over your stomach. You needed to get back to base soon to review the evidence with your team. You also needed a bathroom. But first, you had to deal with Kaiba.

Your trekked back up the steps, each step burning more than the last but nothing you couldn't handle. The pains in your gut were the real problem. Kaiba waited with his arms crossed.

"You look pale." He was blunt.

You ignored him. "You're in danger. I don't know why or how just yet, but I do believe this killer is targeting you. Or, at least, he has a special interest in you. He wants your attention." You thought about the note in your pocket. "He wants to be seen; he wants _you_ to see him. Can you think of anyone, either recently in the past, who has stood out to you? Maybe they made death threats?"

Kaiba laughed. "You're joking right? I'm CEO of KaibaCorp, I receive hundreds of deaths everyday."

"Right. Of course." You figured as much, but there was no harm in asking. You knew the local police would be gathering all of the ones from the past couple of months and searching through them for clues, but it would be a tremendous task that could take weeks. Like finding a needle in a haystack. "I suspect CSU is going to need the rest of the day to finish up. I'm not sure when you office will be available to you again. As for me, I need to get back to my own office, but…" 

You took a gamble. You stepped closer and reached into coat. Again, he just let you. You took out his phone, grabbed his hand, pressed his index finger against the scanner to unlock it, and added your number to his contacts. _Seto Kaiba_ let _you_ into _his_ phone. _Willingly_. You tried not to let the shock show on your face. You were being extremely bold. 

"This is my real number this time, I promise." You looked up at him innocently as you placed the phone back and thought about stealing his wallet again.

He said nothing.

"If you remember anything, call me. I'm sure you're safe in the hands of your bodyguards but… if you feel unsafe, you can call me for that too." You turned to go back the stairs, but he grabbed your wrist.

"And if I want… something else?" His eyes were focused, dark, and his tone was serious. He was not taunting you this time, but you also couldn't tell if he was coming on to you.

You looked at the way he held you. His grip was soft, so you could have easily ripped your arm from him and explained to him that you weren't interested, that you didn't sleep with the same person twice, and that the first time was a mistake.

But you didn't. You didn't do or say anything, and you had no idea why.

"Mister Kaiba!" One of his security guards came running up to him. The popular CEO cursed under his breath and turned around, reluctantly ending your conversation and letting go of your wrist.

"What?!" He shouted.

You took the opportunity to flee.

 

* * *

 

The roads in the city were jammed as the rain came down hard. The traffic had been bumper-to-bumper for the last hour and a half. As much as you hated it, it gave you time to think. You told Chiba you were going radio silent and to just text you if he had any updates.

You were accustomed to working cases off all kinds, but homicide cases seemed to be a specialty of yours. Mainly because no one else wanted them. It was nasty work, but most of the time it was related to drugs or gang violence. You had only ever tracked a serial killer once before, several years ago, and it did not end well. You could remember the night so vividly _—_ the night you backed him into a corner. If only you had known he had a hostage. If only you had known  _who_ that hostage was. If only you had known he was in a frenzy. If only you had gotten there sooner. If only...

You couldn't let that happen again. Not to anyone, not even Seto Kaiba. Despite hating him, his corporation, and everything he stood for, you found yourself torn. The thought of losing him enraged you. Saddened you. Even though you had no choice in working this case and keeping him safe, you found yourself wanting to do so willingly. You had no idea what you were feeling, but it needed to stop. The lines between love and hate were, truly, very thin. So you had heard, anyways.

A small, faint chime came from your phone in the seat next to you. Traffic was still slow, so you didn't feel bad when you reached to check it. Maybe it was Chiba with some news.

It was from a number you didn't recognize.

 ** _"I just remembered something."_**   The first text said.

 _ **"I have something that belongs to you."**_   Said a second text.

The third text was a picture. A picture of a garter.

A _lace_ garter.

 _Your_ lace garter.

 _Your lace garter_ from the night of the charity party.

Seto Kaiba was the one texting you. That son of a bitch had taken _your_ garter home with him that night.

You stared at the phone in disbelief. You wanted to play it cool, but you failed. Anger and embarrassment took hold as you smashed away at your keyboard, writing an angry text. You didn't care about getting it back, you cared that he took it _—_ like a pervert! Like a pervert trophy! You were expecting his next message to include ransom demands.

Right before you could finish typing, there was a tap at your window. You were so focused on texting, that the sudden noise scared you. You phone flew from your hand onto the floor. You stomach began to cramp and turn. At your window stood a traffic cop. Apparently, normal traffic had resumed without your knowledge and now you were causing a jam.

After the long morning, the lack of sleep, the lack of proper food, the horrendous crime scene, the rush that came with a new case, the brief chase, and the back and forth battle of furious and confusing flirtation with a man that took pleasure in pissing you off had all been stewing in your abdomen for hours. The EC finally won its battle with your guts. After you rolled the window down to speak to the traffic officer and explain you were on the job and this had all been a simple mistake, you threw up all over his shoes. 

This time, you got a real ticket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't sext and drive!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left such wonderful comments while I was away! I ate up all that positive energy and channeled it into writing again. I'm having fun writing again, and I have you all to thank for that. So truly, I am extremely grateful. I'm not sure this chapter came out the way I wanted it to since the draft was written several months ago, but honestly I'm just happy to be creating content again. ❤︎


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